


The First Waltz

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Kiss, Short & Sweet, Slow Dancing, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, massively self-indulgent sappiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-18 15:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21663139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Crowley indulges Aziraphale's desire to dance at a New Year's Eve ball...sentimental effusions ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	The First Waltz

The First Waltz

New Year’s Eve was unusually mild that year, so after dinner and drinks, Crowley and Aziraphale went for a leisurely stroll along the festively lit streets. They had not gone far when Aziraphale heard music wafting from nearby.

“Strauss.” He looked wistfully towards a huge nineteenth-century building. The doors stood open as people strolled in and out, most dressed in formal wear. _A ball. It had been so long since he attended a ball._ “I haven’t danced since…well, eighteen hundred something. The gavotte was my favorite, but I do also enjoy a good waltz.”

Crowley followed his gaze. He smiled. “I know how to waltz.”

“Really?” Amazing. After all their time together over the centuries, his friend could still surprise him.

“Yeah, I learned how in Vienna. Seventeen-eighty something. Latest fad – you know how I like to keep up with the times.”

Of course he did. “Well, I never heard you mention it before. I remember that dreadful night in 1970 or so when you dragged me to that dance club in Soho. Wretched music, and nothing but flailing around. Not proper dancing at all.”

“I was merely trying to get you to live in the twentieth century. Musically, anyway.”

“No, thank you.” Aziraphale found he was strolling ever closer to the building.

“Well, let me make it up to you, then.” Crowley turned him towards the entrance and gave him a little shove. “Shall we dance?”

With utter and unexpected delight, Aziraphale nodded. They walked inside, with Crowley waving his hand at a doorman inspecting invitations. He let them go in without a glance.

The foyer was well lit and crowded, with servers carrying trays of champagne through the chattering throng. They weaved their way through until reaching a massive ballroom, where the lights had been dimmed quite low. On a stage at the far end a smaller version of a full orchestra played, and couples swirled around the floor – a good crowd, though not stifling. There was plenty of room for one more.

Aziraphale noted there were men dancing with women, women with women, and men with men. Times had certainly improved since his last waltz.

“I don’t think anyone can see my eyes in here,” Crowley said as they stood on the outskirts, watching the movement. “Or care.” He snapped his fingers and his sunglasses vanished. “That’s better.”

One number ended, and as they waited for the next one to begin, Aziraphale said, “You are being awfully…dare I say it… _nice_ tonight, indulging this whim of mine.”

Crowley stared at him for a rather long moment, and said, “Maybe that’s because you happen to be my best friend.”

Before Aziraphale could respond, the music started – another waltz.

Crowley held out his hand. “Do you want to lead, or shall I?”

As they moved onto the dance floor, Aziraphale said, “I’ll follow.” He put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder as Crowley put a hand on his waist, and off they went, as easy and natural as if they’d been dancing together for years.

Crowley moved, Aziraphale thought ironically, like an angel. They swirled around the floor, never faltering, always in step, one fluid motion that nearly felt like soaring. Aziraphale closed his eyes to briefly imagine the two of them dancing through the heavens.

As they glided to the lovely waltz, the reply Crowley had given him right before the music began abruptly registered. _Maybe that’s because you happen to be my best friend_. And with it came an echo of words that he had forgotten until now. 

He saw a memory of Crowley drinking…a bit vague, as Aziraphale had been discorporated at the time, and trying to get vital information to him…but it came flooding back, the way Crowley looked, how utterly broken he was. And he truly heard, at last, what Crowley said after he’d asked him if he’d gone to Alpha Centauri.

_Changed my mind…stuff happened. I lost my best friend._

The music rose, dropped, swelled again to one final crescendo, then died away.

They came to a halt near the center of the ballroom. Aziraphale didn’t want the contact to break, and he didn’t let go. “One more?” he asked softly. You dance exquisitely.”

Crowley didn’t break the contact either. “Dancing comes naturally to demons. You’re not bad yourself, for being out of practice.”

“Thank you.”

Then the orchestra began to play, only this time it wasn’t a waltz. Aziraphale didn’t recognize the tune, which was sweet and lush and slow…very, very slow. All the couples around them were dancing ever so closely together.

“Um…er…I’m not sure if we shouldn’t…well….” It would be difficult to make a gracious exit from the center of the room.

Crowley smiled, and with his sunglasses gone, Aziraphale could clearly see a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “What’s wrong, Angel? Don’t you like me anymore?”

“ _Like_ you?” Aziraphale started. “Of course I li—“ He stopped, his tongue stumbling over the word, because it wasn’t the one he truly wanted to say.

“Yeah, I know you do,” Crowley said softly, and then beyond all expectations, he stepped as close as he could get and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “ _Dance_.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard, wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist, and moved his feet in an achingly slow shuffle, their heads nestled together…dancing together so very slowly…embraced…warmth flowed through him, and then something else.

Angels can sense love. Aziraphale often picked up tiny slivers of affection passing between humans, depending on how close they came near him, and how strong the feelings were. It was pleasant, but rarely excessive.

There were plenty of those wisps and tendrils of affection and love floating around the ballroom with all the couples about. But the wave that came over him now was so intense that he stumbled and nearly fell backwards. And there was no doubt who it had emanated from.

Crowley steadied him. “You all right?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” _Love_. A wave of love. “May I ask…what were you thinking about, just now? Right before I stumbled.”

“Oh, I was thinking about dark and light, and broken wholes.” Crowley nestled into Aziraphale’s neck once more.

Certainly not what he’d expected to hear. “I’m not following.”

“Just a bit of musing, about you and me, and how we came to be.”

Odder and odder still. “Since when do you go around musing about things?”

“Since the world nearly ended, and I nearly lost you.” Crowley raised his head to look him in the eyes.

“ ‘ _I lost my best friend’_ , “ Aziraphale said. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention back then.” He paused. “What does that have to do with dark and light?”

“We’re opposites,” Crowley replied. “There is no reason in the world that we should ever be friends, let alone best friends. Or to be together at all, in any way.”

“Possibly. Though we _were_ the only two of our kind on Earth, the only beings who could understand what each other lived through.”

“As you say, possibly. Yet what if, instead, we’re not really opposites after all? What if we’re actually two halves of one whole.”

Another wave of love washed over Aziraphale as Crowley spoke. “Go on.”

“I suddenly got this notion – not sure where it came from – that one day during the Beginning, the Almighty took a complete being and broke it in two, with one half light and the other half dark, one good and one bad, one an angel destined to remain an angel, while the other one was destined to fall. And all through the centuries, God’s been sitting up there waiting for us to figure out how to fit those two halves together again, and make them whole.”

Aziraphale stopped dancing, and they both stepped apart, and stood very still. He felt stunned. Where, indeed, had such an idea come from? “That’s beautiful – and poetic – and nothing like you in any way.”

“Yeah. I know.” Crowley smiled. “Do you think Someone –“ He glanced upwards. “Put it into my head on purpose?”

Would God do that? Was the Almighty somehow, after six millennia, allowing them to be together? “Strange thought. I don’t know.” Intriguing, though.

“I like it.” Crowley pulled him close again, even though the slow number had ended and another waltz had begun. He didn’t move, merely stood there, holding Aziraphale tightly. “They’ve given up, is what I think it means. God, Heaven, Hell – everyone – they’re never going to bother us again. No more ‘angels can’t love demons’ nonsense, not ever. They’re telling us we can be with each other as much as we like – that we’re free.”

Aziraphale started to reply, then stopped with his mouth half-open. He’d said “love”, not _like_.

“And we’re whole again,” Crowley added. “And your mouth is open.”

Aziraphale shut it. He moved in closer, head to head, cheek to cheek. “I can feel love, you know.”

He felt Crowley’s hand on the back of his head, gently stroking his hair. "I know you can.”

“I can feel it _now_.”

“Really? Miracle of miracles.” And then Crowley moved back a bit, just looking at him, moving his hands to Aziraphale’s shoulders. “So can I.”

“You _what_?” It had never once occurred to him that Crowley, having been an angel once, could still sense love after having fallen. “But you didn’t – I mean, when we were in Tadfield, I felt love everywhere, and you didn’t notice a thing.”

“True. Then again, I didn’t say I could sense it from anyone, or anywhere.” He reached to cup Aziraphale's face in his hands. “Only from you.”

And then he leaned in to kiss him.

As their lips met, the room seemed to disappear – no music, no one else there, nothing but the two of them merged as one. Neither dark nor light, nor good, nor bad, not angel, not demon…Crowley kissed him, and Aziraphale’s lips parted for more – more touch, more taste, more everything.

He felt whole, and when the kiss ended and he pulled away to gaze into Crowley’s eyes – those wondrous, beautiful eyes – Aziraphale knew they were never meant to be apart.

Just then the room went completely dark as an announcer counted down the final seconds of the old year.

The crowd shouted along – three…two…one – it was midnight, and a clamorous roar rose up as colorful strobe lights flickered around the walls, champagne bottles popped, and confetti fell. The lights came up softly as the orchestra played once more.

Crowley pulled him into a tight embrace and whispered in his ear, “Happy New Year.”

Not a bad time to begin something new, not at all. Aziraphale did not entirely know where they were headed, but it didn’t matter.

Wherever he went, Crowley would be by his side. They were – as they should always have been – together.


End file.
